


The Cure for Insomnia

by ChillieBean



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22685836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean
Summary: With insomnia kicking his ass, Genji has tried everything to get some sleep, from meditation to working out.There isonething that Genji hasn't tried, and Baptiste is theperfectperson to help him.
Relationships: Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Genji Shimada
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	The Cure for Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> This was done as a collaboration with the amazing [blooming](https://twitter.com/bloomingnsfw), and you can [check out the artwork here.](https://twitter.com/bloomingnsfw/status/1227753372935045120?s=20) It's fantastic and amazing and PLEASE give Blooming your love!!

If there is one thing Genji hates the absolute most in the world, it’s insomnia. 

There is _nothing_ worse than lying in bed, body tired, mind tired, but unable to fall asleep. 

He has tried the usual things that get him sleepy: meditation, meditation _with_ Zenyatta, tea, listening to Winston talk about some pet project he’s working on, training, but none of them have worked. 

Right now, he is at his wit's end, ready to ask Angela to knock him out with an anaesthetic because days of being awake are starting to affect his performance. He can’t be out there, in the thick of a mission, missing shots or mind drifting. This has to stop; he _needs_ sleep. 

So his last port of call is the gym. Sure, he already spent two hours working out earlier today, but that exhaustion was in vain. Now, he has plans to run on the treadmill until he literally can’t go any further, and hopefully then he’ll be able to drag his ass to bed and finally be granted with the sweet release of sleep.

It is only 1 a.m., after all. 

As he makes his way past the rec room, it seems he’s not the only one struggling: Hana and Lúcio are there, so absorbed in their racing game they don’t hear his “Hey,” from the doorway. 

In the mess hall, Angela, Mei, and Brigitte sit at a table, talking and laughing. They, too, don’t see him walk past.

On his approach to the gym, he notes that the lights are on. Stepping inside, Baptiste is working the inner thigh machine. He’s been here for a little while at least; sweat drenches the collar of his tank top. 

But Genji absolutely _can’t_ stop himself from focusing on Baptiste’s thick, muscular thighs as they open and close. 

Tearing his eyes away, Genji gives Baptiste a quick, casual nod of his head and beelines for the treadmill, dropping his towel and bottle on the seat nearby. He keeps his head ducked, gives _all_ his attention to adjusting the settings of the treadmill in an effort to calm his horny brain which is just _begging_ him to sneak another look. 

He has been crushing _hard_ for Baptiste. From his dazzling smile, his confidence, his sense of humour, his absolute _love_ for those unsightly Hawaiian shirts, his competence on the training range and in the field—literally _everything_ about him. 

As usual, this simple crush has turned into an almost obsession, and he _wants_ Baptiste. He’s jerked off thinking about Baptiste—as recently as last night as a means to get that sweet hormone release that normally puts him to sleep. 

Of course, he got nothing but another restless night because masturbation is no substitute for actual fucking.

But with each one rubbed out, the urge to make a move on Baptiste grows stronger. They’re friends, first and foremost, they clicked almost instantly, and now, they spend most of their time together talking for hours on end over a shared drink. Genji has told Baptiste more about his past than anyone else on base. He’s laughed in front of him, he’s cried in front of him, and Baptiste has been right there, with a hand on his shoulder and comforting words in his ear. 

As Genji holds onto the _vivid_ memory of Baptiste’s breath caressing his ear, he activates the treadmill, falling into a comfortable jog. He keeps his eyes forward, focused on the dumbbells sitting on the rack, and not on Baptiste whom he can see from the corner of his eye. 

Recently, they’ve been flirting up a storm. Basketball last week became sexually charged, with bumping and grinding and grunting. They were in each other’s spaces more than they needed to, blocking shots, racking up foul after foul. Eventually, Lena had enough and stopped calling them out.

During _and_ after that game, there were comments from almost everyone that they should get a room already. They both laughed it off, but it has since left Genji thinking, what _if_ they’d done it? Because _fuck_ , just feeling Baptiste’s skin brush against his made him feel more alive than he’s ever felt. 

Baptiste _grunts_ , and it slams Genji in the present. He almost trips over himself but recovers smooth enough that Baptiste might not have noticed. That _shouldn’t_ have sounded as sexy as it did, but clearly, Genji is in deep.

“Something must be in the air.”

Genji glances at Baptiste, he’s frowning but his eyes are trained on Genji. “What is?”

“Half the base is up.” Baptiste pauses, sucks in a breath through his teeth as he completes another rep. “Never seen so many people awake this late. Ergo, something in the air.”

Genji just nods, utterly focused on Baptiste’s thighs, practically shaking under the tension. Open and close, open and close. The booty shorts aren’t helping one iota, showing off _more_ than Genji would normally see given Baptiste usually wears knee-length shorts. Baptiste is more muscular than Genji imagined, each rep has each one _bulging_ beneath his skin. 

Right now, Genji would give _anything_ to have his head crushed between Baptiste’s thighs.

But it’s not just his thighs that have Genji’s attention, oh no—it’s the fact that on each spread of Baptiste’s legs, the fabric of his shorts stretches thin, showing off his bulge. 

Baptiste's not even hard—if he were he’d be poking out of those tiny shorts, surely—but _fuck_ he’s _big_. Genji already knew that, though, he’s seen his package when he wears a pair of jeans and it’s an absolutely _gorgeous_ sight. 

This though, seeing the rounded shape of his goods, knowing there’s the thinnest possible fabric keeping it all contained, it’s almost too much. Genji feels his cock twitch, he sees himself straining against his shorts. It’ll be a miracle if Baptiste doesn’t notice. 

“So what’s keeping you up?” 

Genji blinks back into now, meeting Baptiste’s gaze. He’s got a sly grin on his face, he winks when their eyes meet. 

Licking his too dry lips, he tries to act as cool as he can. “Insomnia.”

“Same,” Baptiste replies. He grunts again, but there was more to it than struggle, it was forced, put on.

 _Sexual_. 

The mere sound of it makes Genji’s stomach drop and his cock utterly jump. 

“But,” Baptise continues, sighing as he pulls the release, letting the weights come to rest as he relaxes in the chair, “ _this_ isn’t working.” He grabs his towel from behind him, wiping his face. “I might need something a little more _intense_.”

Genji has to grab onto the handles of the treadmill as Baptiste pivots in the seat slightly and drapes his towel over his thigh. His hand settles high up, literally an _inch_ from his goods and Genji sees the outline of his _hard_ cock pressed between his leg and the shorts. 

There is _no way_ Baptiste is wearing underwear. 

Heart hammering in his chest, breaths growing quick and shallow, Genji slows the treadmill to a stop, stepping off, grabbing his things off the chair and falling into it. He closes his eyes as he wipes his face, _wishing_ Baptiste’s shorts were shorter still so he could’ve got a peek of Baptiste’s cock. 

Baptiste’s words, _I might need something a little more intense_ , repeat in his mind, and it just fills his mind with images of fucking Baptiste, of their bodies pressed together, panting and moaning as their hips move in perfect rhythm. 

Hunching over, Genji grabs his cock with his other hand and squeezes. White-hot pleasure shoots through him, he has to bite his lip to stop from moaning. This is it, the _only_ thing he’s yet to do is _fuck_ someone, and Baptiste _is_ that someone. Baptiste’s _clearly_ down for it, he caught Genji staring at him, he drew his eyes _right_ to his erection. 

There’s no reading between the lines here. Genji’s going to ask him. Now or never. 

Head swimming in pure desire, stomach fluttering fiercely, Genji pulls the towel away and looks at the now _empty_ thigh machine. He frowns, looking around the room to see Baptiste adding weights to the bench press bar. Genji stands, drapes the towel over his shoulder and picks up his water bottle, walks over to him, opens his mouth to speak, to ask if he wants to get out of here and do a more _intense_ workout that involves them and a bed—

“Wanna be my spotter?” 

Genji blinks at him. Is… is _this_ what he meant by a more intense workout? Did he read Baptiste wrong?

“I’ll take that stunned silence as a yes,” Baptiste says playfully, lying down on the bench. 

“Yeah,” Genji whispers, standing behind him. He keeps his eyes on Baptiste’s hands as he puts on his gloves, then as he positions them on the bar. 

Genji _absolutely_ doesn’t look down at himself, at his _very obvious_ bulge, nor does he think about how close Baptiste’s head is to it, how _easy_ it would be for Baptist to suck him off right now. Instead, he _forces_ himself to focus on Baptiste as he lifts the bar, as he brings it down to his chest slowly, as he raises it again just as slowly.

But, he can’t help but get lost in his little grunts, his heaving breaths. It draws his eyes to Baptiste’s chest, tensing with each rep. It’s a losing battle from there, he can’t stop himself from looking lower still—

His stomach drops, so hard it feels like a punch to the gut. He wanted to see a sordid little peek of Baptiste’s cock and he _has it_ now. Baptiste’s shorts have ridden up enough that the head is poking out from the bottom. He’s big, he’s _thick_ , he’s absolutely _begging_ to be touched, but Genji _can’t_ because he’s here, standing behind Baptiste to make sure he doesn’t struggle and drop the bar on himself.

“You smell good.”

Genji has to physically shake his head to draw his eyes away from Baptiste’s cock. He swallows thickly as Baptiste sets the bar back on the rack. 

“So much that I…” his hand trails down his body slowly, over his hip and onto his cock. He traces a thumb along his clothed shaft, all the way to the head, hooking his fingers in his shorts and pulling them up a bit more, revealing a good couple inches of that _gorgeous_ cock. “I got a little excited.”

Genji takes a slow, stuttering breath, his fingers flex, his cock twitches. His brain all but fries as Baptiste pulls the foreskin back all the way, revealing that very _suckable_ glans. Fuck, all Genji wants to do is touch him, to suck him dry, to _ride_ him and _coat_ him with come. But the base is very much still awake and he doesn’t have supplies.

His mind drifts back to Baptiste sucking him off, and he can’t help it then, pulling his shorts down enough to get his cock free. “Me too,” Genji breathes, taking himself in his hand. “Thinking about you sucking me off.”

Baptiste smiles wide, scooting towards him until his head drops off the edge of the bench. “Then let me take care of you,” he says, winking. “Fuck my mouth.” Then, he opens his mouth wide. 

A small, _small_ part of him tries to reason with him, that doing this in public is a recipe for disaster given how awake the base is, but _that_ is what makes _this_ hot. 

It doesn’t matter if they get caught. Genji couldn’t care _less_ if they get caught. 

Biting his lip, Genji lines his cock at Baptiste's mouth. Baptiste’s tongue darts out, he licks against his slit, and Genji whimpers. _That_ simple act alone, that tiniest of tastes, has molten heat pooling in his core, and he wants, _needs_ more. 

Genji moves forward, and the moment Baptiste wraps his lips around his shaft, he quivers, taking hold of the frame of the benchpress. He thrusts ever so slowly, going about halfway before pulling back. Even though each movement is minute, testing the waters, making sure Baptiste is comfortable, pleasure utterly crackles through him like fireworks. He knows he won’t last long, a part of him is a little embarrassed at that but he really couldn’t care, he’s wanted Baptiste for so _long_. This will just be the first of _many_ encounters.

Baptiste’s hands settle on Genji’s ass and he pushes forward. Genji sucks in a breath when he feels the tightness of Baptiste’s throat, and he moans when he sees the bulge of Baptiste’s neck as he takes him all the way. 

“Fuck,” Genji mutters, shifting his hands onto the bar and resting his head on top. He thrusts a little faster now, keeping a steady rhythm, watching as his cock appears and disappears in Baptiste's mouth, his throat. 

And Baptiste, he doesn’t even flinch. If anything, he’s encouraging, pushing against him a little harder, with more force. Genji adjusts, picking up his speed, going in as deep as he can manage. 

Then, Baptiste’s hands shift to Genji’s hips, and Genji pulls back. Baptiste takes Genji’s cock in his hand, looking up at him with a devilish smirk on his face. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even break eye contact as he gives a couple of good tugs. 

Genji’s knees weaken at the sight. He commits it to memory—the tightness of Baptiste’s hand, his smirk, that _wink_ as he lets go of him. Baptiste licks his lips, Genji takes a step forward, and Baptiste licks the underside of his cock from base to tip before taking him in his mouth again. 

Genji shudders, his grip on the bar tightens. He rolls his hips, working his way up to the same speed from before. He misses Baptiste’s hands on him, but Baptiste has other ideas, as his hand moves down his body slowly, all the way to his cock, and he palms himself through his shorts. He moans, Genji feels the vibration in his throat more than he hears it, which all but sends Genji sitting on the edge of orgasm. Between watching Baptiste, as his cock twitches, desperate for more attention when he pulls his hand away, and the delicious wet heat of Baptiste’s mouth, he’s so close. 

“I’m almost there,” Genji mutters. “You don’t have to—”

Baptiste’s hands settle on Genji’s ass again, grabbing and pushing and pulling. Genji matches his speed, he moans as he’s pushed over the edge. Baptiste’s eyes screw shut, he swallows around Genji, and Genji has to place a steadying hand on Baptiste’s shoulder from collapsing into a boneless mess.

Pulling back slowly when Baptiste’s hands slide up to his waist, he glances up, seeing the streak of white against Baptiste’s thigh and the small puddle on the bench.

His cock slips out of Baptiste’s mouth, a line of spit and come keeps them connected for a moment before breaking, and when it does, Genji sweeps down, cups the back of Baptiste’s head and kisses him, slow and sloppy, tasting himself on Baptiste’s tongue. 

Pressing one last kiss to the corner of Baptiste’s mouth, Genji breathes in deep, falling to his knees. Baptiste’s head settles on his shoulder, Genji rests against Baptiste’s, he closes his eyes and enjoys this afterglow.

It takes him a few moments, but as fatigue settles in, Genji realises he’s _finally_ reached that level of exhaustion he was seeking. “Wanna come back to mine?” he asks, saying it without thinking. 

“Absolutely,” Baptiste replies. He lifts his head, pulls himself up and looks down at himself. Genji stands, eyeing the puddle on the bench as Baptiste wipes it away. He cleans his leg, dabs at his tip before pulling his shorts back down to cover himself, and Genji mirrors the action, tucking himself into his shorts. 

With a sigh, Baptiste glances at Genji with a tired smile. “Reckon I could sleep for a week after that.”

Genji hums, offering a hand and pulling him to standing. He picks his things up from the floor, leading Baptiste past the mess hall and rec room where everyone is still unaware of their presence, and by the time they’re at his quarters, his feet are dragging against the carpet. He inputs the code, tugs Baptiste inside, undresses, leaving his clothes where they land on the floor, and falls naked into his bed. 

He gives Baptiste a moment, and when he doesn’t feel the bed dip, he opens his eyes. Baptiste is looking at him from the foot of the bed with a sheepish little smile on his face. 

“I don’t even care that I’m sweaty, and I don’t care if you are,” Genji says. “We’ll worry about that in the morning. Now get your ass in here so I can cuddle you before I fall asleep.”

“Yessir,” Baptiste says, undressing. He climbs in naked, Genji attaches to him, slotting in nicely against his back, and breathes in deep. Baptiste smells of deodorant and sweat, and if he weren’t so bone achingly tired he’d be turned on by it. But right now, _days_ worth of lost sleep have finally caught up to him. 

“Good night,” Genji mumbles, resting his forehead against the back of Baptiste’s head. 

“‘Night.”

Genji sighs contently, and the last thing he thinks of as unconsciousness settles over him like a wave is that he may never wash his sheets from Baptiste’s smell _ever_ again.

**Author's Note:**

> Always remember to practice safe oral sex!
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BeanChillie) and [PillowFort!](https://www.pillowfort.social/ChillieBean) Come say hi!


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